A Magic Talking Looking Glass
by artemis of isles
Summary: One shot. "She found it easy being pretty to hitch a ride into the city". A parody of how Hermione helped Harry. A 128 line poem.


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A Magic Talking Looking Glass

Summary: She found it easy being pretty to hitch a ride into the city. A parody of how Hermione helped Harry. A 128 line poem.  
Warning: violence  
Rate: PG  
Word count: 815  
AN: I shamelessly borrowed Roald Dahl's Revolting Poem snow white and seven dwarves. Anything you recognise is not mine. All rights belong to Dahl and JKR.  
  
When young Hermione's aunt died,  
the king Lockhart, her uncle, up and cried,  
'Oh, what a nuisance, what a life!  
Now I must find another wife.'  
It's never easy for a king  
to find himself that sort of thing.  
  
He wrote to Witch Weekly magazine  
and said, 'I'm looking for a queen.'  
At least ten thousand witches replied  
and begged to be the royal bride.  
Lockhart said with a shifty smile,  
'I'd like to give each one a trial.'  
  
However, in the end he favour'  
a French lady called Miss Delacour.  
who brought along a curious toy  
had seemed give her endless joy.  
This was a mirror framed in brass,  
a magic talking looking glass.  
  
Ask it something, day or night,  
it always got the answer right.  
For instance, if you were to say,  
'Oh Mirror, what's for lunch today?'  
The thing would answer in a trice,  
'Today is, er, ze bouillabaisse.'  
  
Now every day week in, week out  
the spoiled and haughty queen would shout,  
'Oh, Mirror, Mirror on ze vall  
'oo is ze fairest of zem all?'  
The mirror answered every time,  
'Oh madam, you're ze queen sublime.  
You're ze only one to charm us.  
Queen, you are cat's pyjamas.'  
  
For ten whole years the silly Queen  
repeated this absurd routine.  
Then suddenly one awful day,  
she heard the magic mirror say,  
'From now on, Queen you're number two,  
Hermione is prettier zan you.'  
  
Delacour went absolutely feral.  
She yelled, 'I'm going to strag zat girl.  
I'll cook 'er flaming fish.  
I'll skin 'er rotten guts for dish!'  
She called the huntsman to her study.  
She shouted at him, 'Listen 'Agrid buddy,  
You drag zat filthy gairl outside.  
See you take 'er for a ride.  
Zereafter, slit 'er ribs apart,  
And bring me back 'er bleeding 'eart.'  
  
Hagrid drag our dearest.  
Deep, deep into the forest  
Fearing the worst Hermione spake,  
'Oh, please give me a break!'  
Hagrid smiled, 'keep it down, yer highness.  
I'd be daft to obey tha' rotten royal madness'  
He sniffed, 'Good luck, off you go, dear of mine.'  
Hermione hug the half-Giant and off she went.  
  
Later Hagrid made a stop  
at the local butcher shop.  
There he bought for safety sake  
a bullock's heart of one night steak.  
  
'Oh, yer Majesty, oh Queen' he cried,  
Tha' rotten 'ittle girl 'as died.  
An' jus' ter prove I didn' cheat  
I bought along these bits o' meat.'  
The queen cried out, 'Bravissimo!  
I trust you killed 'er nice and slow.'  
Then, this is the disgusting part,  
the queen sat down and ate the heart  
I only hope she cook it well.  
Boiled heart can be tough as hell.  
  
While all of this was going on,  
Oh where, oh where had Hermione gone?  
She found it easy being pretty  
to hitch a ride into the city.  
And there she got a job in the British Library,  
as a magical librarian and reading wizardry.  
  
There she met seven boy warlocks,  
each one sporting strands of dreadlocks.  
Quidditch player, all of them, but the seeker,  
the green-eyed Harry made her heart flutter.  
  
These seven boys though awfully nice  
were guilty of one shocking vice.  
They squandered all of their resources  
to Quidditch pitch betting matches.  
When they hadn't bet winner  
none of them got any dinner.  
  
One evening Hermione said, 'look here,  
I think I got a great idea.  
Just leave it all to me, okay?  
And no more gambling till I say.'  
That very night at eventide  
darling Hermione hitched another ride.  
  
And then when it was very late  
she sliped in through the palace gate.  
Lockhart was in his counting house couting out his money.  
Delacour was in the parlour eating bread and honey.  
The footmen and servants slept.  
No one had saw her when she crept  
on tip toe through the mighty hall  
and grab the mirror on the wall.  
  
As soon as she back at home  
she told Harry, her to-be-groom,  
to ask what he wished to know  
'Go on,' she shouted, 'have a go.'  
  
'Oh Mirror, please don't joke.  
Each one of us is stony broke.  
Which team will win tomorrow's match,  
the Wales common weekly Quidditch?  
The mirror whispered sweet and low,  
'the team's name is mistletoe.'  
  
The wizards went absolutely crackers.  
Harry smooched Hermione four and halves.  
Then they rush away to rise some dough,  
wished to bet old mistletoe:  
pawn their watched; sold their car;  
borrowed money near and far.  
For much of it they had to thank  
the goblin of the Gringotts' bank.  
  
They went to Wales, of course,  
bet the winning team for once.  
Thereafter, every single Saturday  
the mirror made the bookies pay.  
Each wizard and Hermione got a share  
and each soon a millionaire.  
  
Before long, our sweethearts got married.  
In their park little Potters pranced about thrilled.  
Which shows that gambling's not a sin  
provided that you always win.


End file.
